Somebody I Used to Know
by qwertygal
Summary: Inspired by officerparker's week 3 challenge: Someone from Wyatt's past shows up and thinks Wyatt and Lucy are together. Here be massive shifts in tone. We're talking from time team joyful triviality, to character sorrow….
1. Chapter 1

**_Started writing this the day we were cancelled, and was still editing by the time we were un-cancelled! Has anyone in the fandom created a name for that crazy time yet? I think we need one—the pre-decision angst, the cancellation despondency, the un-cancellation joy….definitely needs an epic name._**

 ** _Inspired by officerparker's week 3 challenge: Someone from Wyatt's past shows up and thinks Wyatt and Lucy are together. It's the first thing that popped into my head, when I read that prompt. Originally, this was part of a larger story that I have abandoned for now. I had intended to eliminate the "excess plot" from the main week 3 challenge idea, but the story said "no". So….now I have to add a warning: Here be massive shifts in tone! We're talking from time team joyful triviality to character shock and sadness…. I'm expecting 4 chapters of it._**

 ** _So, to paraphrase_** ** _All About Eve_** ** _: Fasten your seatbelts—or better yet, have Wyatt do it-it's going to be a bumpy fic._**

 ** _I of course own nothing that follows—not from Timeless, not the surprising number of paraphrased lines that crept in from another fandom—bonus points if you find them—and most definitely not the Shakespeare._**

Wyatt pulled himself out of the life boat and pinched the bridge of his nose for a beat, willing his stomach to settle back somewhere in the approximate region of his abdomen, before he turned to offer his hand to Lucy. Apparently he had tugged her just a little too sharply, as she toppled out of the portal—legs tangled in her 1814 skirts. About to remark on the perils of being a time-travelling klutz, Wyatt thought better of it, and instead offered her his hand again. Given the look she shot him, he assumed that she must have been able to read the previous unspoken comment in his eyes. He smiled gently, and reached his hand closer to her, "Need some help, ma'am?"

There was that look again. "You're lucky it's your birthday Wyatt."

But Wyatt's grin widened, thankful once again that he'd stumbled upon _that_ little gem of nomenclature the day they met, as he saw the slight flush of colour gaining traction on her cheeks-just as her annoyance seemed to fade.

Another voice sounded behind him, still inside the Lifeboat. "Speaking of that, can we please get out of here soon? I'm starving."

"Not to hold up the party folks, but there's this little thing called a debrief we like to do around here." Agent Christopher stood with her hands on her hips, gazing at the trio, although Wyatt recognized immediately that her expression didn't hold the same hard line as her words.

"So—what was Emma's plan this time?" she asked.

"No idea," shrugged Wyatt, walking toward the computer banks.

"Everything seemed proper, at Fort McHenry," came Lucy's voice, as she drew along beside him.

Was it just Wyatt's imagination, or was she standing closer and closer to him these days? He quirked an eyebrow at her slightly, _maybe it was….nope; let's stop that line of thinking_ right _now._ _Still on duty, and all_. Instead, he pulled his ridiculously scratchy woollen cap from his head and sighed. "Yep-lots of rockets' red glare, bombs in the air….and most importantly, come dawn's early light," he nodded for emphasis, "The flag was still there."

"So you're saying you had no contact with her at all?" asked Agent Christopher.

"Saw her once," began Rufus.

"Yes," continued Lucy, "In a row boat on the river, making a hasty retreat from the fort."

"But we questioned everyone we could," Wyatt finished. "No one in the vicinity had any memory of seeing or talking to her. We can't pinpoint anything that she actually changed."

"What's her game?" asked Christopher, to no one in particular.

Wyatt started unbuttoning his top coat, _damn uncomfortable and heavy period clothes_. "You know, there was something to be said for Flynn's approach, at least we could always just follow the trail of bodies…."

Lucy flashed him an indistinguishable look. "Emma's methodical, careful. Knows exactly what she's going for, and just changes that one thing tiny thing to make the difference she wants….we just need to get ahead of her."

"And how do we do that?" asked Mason, who had joined the group at the edge of the platform, levelling his gaze on Lucy.

"Research," she shrugged. "Just like before, we take the data stick from the lifeboat with the previous history, then we hit the computers. Figure out whatever little bits have changed from the original timeline, look for trends, patterns, connections, anything we can find to try and predict her next move."

Wyatt pressed his palms against the nearest console, rolling his shoulders and huffing out an abbreviated chuckle. "Like I said….I miss Flynn."

"Well," said Mason, "I'll start running the numbers—go change and report back here. Time and tide, you know."

"No," said agent Christopher. "It can wait."

"What's that now?" asked Rufus, grasping Jiya's hand as he stood beside her.

"I know it's Wyatt's birthday—get out of here, have some fun….and get some sleep. That's an order. Mason's people will start running the program; it will be ready and waiting for you tomorrow morning."

 ** _Love constructive criticism feedback, but be gentle. First thing I've written in over a decade!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**"I know it's Wyatt's birthday—get out of here, have some fun….and get some sleep. That's an order. Mason's people will start running the program; it will be ready and waiting for you tomorrow morning."**_

"Happy birthday, to you!" Jiya and Lucy came out of the small kitchen in Jiya's apartment, singing, and carrying the frosted cake with candles.

Holding it in front of him, Jiya smiled, " 'K, make a wish and blow."

For an instant, Wyatt's breath caught in his throat. W _hen,_ when _was the last time someone had brought him a birthday cake?_ He couldn't even remember-but his subconscious scolded him, _Of course you remember—six years ago, chocolate with seven minute icing, can still taste it…._

His momentary contemplation was broken by Rufus' stilted question. "Okay guys…. What, in the hell, is that?"

"What?" asked Lucy, innocently.

"That….the cake. What is the cake shaped like?"

"It's the rocket—from Weapon of Choice," explained Jiya, levelling Rufus with a don't-mess-with-me-right-now-gaze.

"I'm sorry man," he said, clapping Wyatt on the shoulder, "But it looks rather phallic to me."

"Rufus!" said Lucy, "How can you say that? Jiya and I, we spent like, well, _at least_ ten minutes trying to pull this thing together."

Wyatt couldn't help it; he started to laugh with appreciation for his friends.

Jiya rolled her eyes, "Sorry, it's not like we aren't a little busy, you know, saving history and the world and all."

Lucy shook her head in over-the-top mock exasperation, "The candles are melting, Wyatt, just make a wish, blow out your giant genitalia cake, and let's get on with it."

Wyatt chuckled again, and pulled Lucy to his side with his arm around her waist. He closed his eyes— _wishing for whatever this all was right now to keep going_ —and blew.

The cake eaten, Rufus had followed Jiya into the kitchen. Wyatt took a sip of his drink, as he watched Lucy sorting through the collection of LPs on the floor, in a corner.

"I can't believe Jiya actually has a turn-table, very retro of her," mused Lucy

"Not hers—Rufus. He told me he brought it over a few months back and she hasn't given it back."

"Not surprised, then. Rufus is a vintage kind of guy."

"Well I'm surprised."

"You are?"

"Yeah," he favoured her with his lop-sided grin, "I figured him more for an 8-track collection kind of guy."

He swung his head back to the kitchen door as he heard Jiya and Rufus coming back into living room.

"….Of course you're taking them out, it's _my_ week, remember, no way is Dan from wardrobe winning this thing…." She trailed off, realizing they had an audience.

"Win what thing?" asked Lucy.

"Nothin', nothing at all—heeyy, you guys found my records," said Rufus. "Lucy, when are you going to tell us what type of music your band played?"

Rufus's very un-smooth change of topic wasn't lost on Wyatt; he would have to question him further on that one, later. But for now, since Rufus had decided to turn the topic to one of Wyatt's preferred 'let's tease Lucy' games, he decided to join in. "That's right; you have to tell us now."

She sighed, "Not tonight."

"Ah, come on," he flashed his dimples at her, "Birthday boy, remember?"

"Nope."

"You leave us no choice then," said Wyatt, "Rufus?"

Rufus cleared his throat, and began to tick off items on an imaginary list in the air, "So, we've already established that Miss Preston's band did _not_ play country, jazz, bluegrass, or heavy metal."

Wyatt picked up the thread, "And she was not crooning the classics nor was she belting show tunes."

Rufus continued, "So, perhaps it was Central European folk songs?"

Lucy glowered at him.

Wyatt offered, "Gregorian chant?"

Lucy's previously stoic face broke on that one, giggling slightly, "I told you—we're not talking about this".

"Nope—I got it, bagpipes, right?" Wyatt continued, "A bagpipe band!"

"What?" she was truly laughing now.

Wyatt grinned smugly— _mission accomplished_. But he couldn't leave it there, "Come on, it's a thing, you know it is".

The apartment was filled with the sound of laughter, until Jiya was finally able to sputter "Enough!"

Wyatt turned, to see her pointing toward the door.

"Everybody out. Rufus is gonna take you guys to a local establishment to continue this party, and I'm going to bed."

Rufus appealed "Sure you don't want to come?"

"No—some of us rolled into Mason Industries, like, thirty-six hours ago, and haven't slept since. _Just_ to ensure the wormhole didn't collapse on your sorry asses. There's a decent place pretty close to here, Rufus knows it—drinks, dancing, drinks, pub food, _drinks_ ," she emphasized, "You get the idea." She ushered them out the door.

 _ **Yep, so the time team is off to a bar-like they seem to do so often in fic. Can't say I blame them though-I figure there are far worse ways to deal with the psychological ramifications of time travel!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**There's a decent place pretty close to here, Rufus knows it—drinks, dancing, drinks, pub food, drinks," she emphasized, "You get the idea."**_ __ _ **She ushered them out the door.**_

Wyatt scanned the bar with some interest—it was busy, with a diverse group of people mingling at the bar and on the dance floor. It had a bit of a retro-feel, and what seemed to be a rather eclectic music mix. _Better than most places he had spent his birthday lately—and definitely much better company._

The trio found a spot against the narrow raised tables surrounding the dance floor.

"Okay—I am going to go get you guys drinks…strong ones" Rufus started moving toward the bar.

"Don't worry about me, Rufus", said Lucy, pulling herself onto one of the high stools, "Much more tonight, and I might start acting loopy."

"Humour me, Lucy" smiled Rufus, glancing between his two friends. "It's the primary joy of being the designated driver—being able to get your friends a little loopy, and then hold their actions against them, forever and ever!" He re-started his mission toward the bar.

Wyatt glanced in her direction. As he was still standing, they were nearly even in height. "You don't want it, don't drink it."

"S'okay" she replied absently. "One more is fine. Didn't you hear? The University seems to think I've developed a drinking problem anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I was invited to give a lecture this weekend, part of a series they do. Anyway, among other things, my lecture included over half-an-hour of information on the Johnson County War." She gave a slight laugh. "I was on fire, full know-it-all mode," she turned toward him and smiled. "You would have liked it. Anyway, I was making connections, quoting sources, even making a few jokes…."

"So what was the problem?"

"Turns out in _this_ timeline….the Johnson County War never happened. Not even close."

"So you…."

"Lectured for over half-an-hour on something that, as far as everyone in the building was concerned, I was making up as I went along? Yep, that's about it."

"Ouch."

"I don't know, Wyatt, I really thought our new Lifeboat Ark plan was good—keeping the data stick of historical data with us, so that we could use Mason's computers each time we return, to compare the data to the _new_ history, find the differences, and go from there….but Emma's so subtle-it's just not enough. The stick may have history's greatest hits on it, but we need more to figure out what Emma's planning….I don't know, more social history I think might help, at least it would be a good start…."

Her gaze suddenly shifted, to meet his eyes directly. "You know what the worst thing was about my lecture debacle? I don't even _know_ when that bit of history changed. Could have been any of our trips to an earlier year….and I didn't even _notice_."

Wyatt was staring at her, with a slight raise in his left eyebrow. "Maybe you do need that drink." He leaned back against the table, wishing for the umpteenth time he could come up with some solution to the time travel thought spins that seemed to be grabbing her more and more frequently, these days.

"Look, it's my birthday, right?"

Lucy nodded, "Right."

"So, I say no shop talk. Not tonight."

She looked as though she were about to argue, but then met his eyes, and nodded slightly. " 'K."

"Good," he smirked at her, hoping to soften his words. Without any other thought, he leaned in toward her, and kissed her on the cheek.

Only when his lips hit her soft skin, did he realize exactly what he'd done. _Oh crap._

She looked at him in slight surprise.

 _Oh, big time crap._ _What had just happened?_ His inner voice started yelling again— _Deflect!_ _Deflect!_ "Serves you right, you know—picking history as a career because you assumed there would be no need to stay current in the research".

She remained speechless.

 _Oh, crap_.

Saving him, Rufus returned from his bar run, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened. "Did you know that there is an appalling lack of time travel-themed drinks available at this bar?" He handed his friends their glasses.

"So what's this?" asked Lucy

"Old fashioned."

"That's pretty weak, my friend," said Wyatt, raising his glass toward Lucy. He was silently relieved, when she clinked glasses with him.

"Don't I know it. It was either that or just go for shaken martinis….but you know—didn't want to get our Bond girl here all hot and bothered."

Wyatt flashed him a warning look, but, unexpectedly, Lucy began to laugh….a lot…..and hard. And then something happened that delighted him far more than it probably should have-Lucy snorted.

"You snorted!" he gasped.

"What?" she said, attempting to get her laughter under control, "I did not."

"Yes, you did."

"Rufus, help me," she said

Rufus grinned, "Sorry, Lucy, that was most definitely a snort."

"Ugh," she took another sip of her drink. "Guess it's too late to convince you guys I'm sophisticated, right?"

"Most definitely yes," began Wyatt, tentatively moving his arm around her waist. He relaxed, when she didn't pull away. "But then, there is absolutely no room for sophistication in the Lifeboat, so it is all good."

"Hey, speak for yourself," Rufus began. "Pretty sure I'm the epitome of sophistication."

Another wave of warmth went through Wyatt as Lucy leaned back against him. He sucked in his breath— _Gotta be the alcohol, right?_

Lucy responded to Rufus, "Right, 'cause Chocodiles definitely say sophisticated."

They were getting bemused stares from the waitress now, Wyatt noted, they were laughing so hard. He wasn't complaining though. Lucy's face had gone well past flushed and moved on to a delightful shade of flamingo. Not able to help himself, he gave her a half-hug, and her gaze shifted from Rufus to him. She flashed him a small, seemingly private smile, and it made him feel-

His peripheral vision caught a sudden change in Rufus' face. Rufus wasn't laughing anymore, his eyes were wide, staring at something behind and beyond Wyatt's shoulder, and his mouth gaped open. Wyatt's training kicked in. He took a step back from Lucy, and could feel his body entering ready stance, "What is it?" he hissed.

Rufus's mouth started to move "Ho-ly-shi-Lucy, come dance with me," he grabbed her wrist, not noticing her bemused expression, "Right Now," he practically shouted, pulling her off her stool and toward the dance floor behind them.

"Dude, what the-?"

And then Wyatt heard it- _her_ voice. Right. Behind. Him.


	4. Chapter 4

_**His peripheral vision caught a sudden change in Rufus' face.**_ _ **Rufus wasn't laughing anymore, his eyes were wide, staring at something behind and beyond Wyatt's shoulder, and his mouth gaped open.**_ _ **Wyatt's training kicked in.**_ _ **He took a step back from Lucy, and could feel his body entering ready stance, "What is it?" he hissed.**_

 _ **Rufus's mouth started to move "Ho-ly-shi-Lucy, come dance with me," he grabbed her wrist, not noticing her bemused expression, "Right Now," he practically shouted, pulling her off her stool and toward the dance floor behind them.**_

 _ **"**_ _ **Dude, what the-?"**_

 _ **And then Wyatt heard it-her**_ _ **voice.**_ _ **Right. Behind. Him.**_

Wyatt?"

It was as though the entire bar had gone silent-all he could hear was the thudding of his own heart, seeming to pick up speed like a locomotive. He blinked once, and found himself having to command his feet to assist him in turning toward the still familiar voice.

"Jess?" he somehow managed to croak.

"I knew it was you—oh my gosh, it's been forever….I can't believe you're actually stateside!"

Wyatt's brain had in no way caught up to the reality of his situation. _It wasn't._ _Couldn't be._ _Was it?_

It sounded like her—it _smelled_ like her. Looked like her—but just a bit different. Her hair—it was shorter, and she was wearing more makeup than he remembered. Her hand, the left one, there was something different about it as well, niggling at the back of his mind—but then she brought it to his shoulder, and the warmth of it captivated his brain with memories, pushing the thought away. Desperately, he tried to organize his thoughts enough to try and say something—

"Jeez Wyatt, stare much? How much have you had to drink tonight?"

She removed her hand, and the lack of contact sent Wyatt reeling. He slammed both hands onto the stool seat beside him, willing himself to stay upright.

"Wow, you really are drunk….wait, I know! Happy Birthday, right?"

He wasn't able to process whether or not he had nodded an affirmation. She was real. She was here. _This was actually happening_.

He said her name again. At this point, it seemed to be the only thing he could muster.

She smiled again, "So, who are your friends?"

"Huh?" His gaze followed her motion toward the dance floor, toward Rufus and Lucy, doing some sort of bizarre cheek-to-cheek tango, so that both sets of eyes could stay trained on him and Jessica.

 _What the hell?_ He shook his head, ordering his mind to focus, to clear the fog that seemed to be encircling his every thought. Closing his eyes, he balled his hands into fists, pressing his fingers into his palms. _Get. A. Grip. Wyatt. Logan_.

"Wyatt? Your friends?"

Slowly, he moved his head back around to face her, knowing his mouth was still gaping, but seemingly unable to do anything about that. She was waiting; expecting an answer…. _What was the question_?

Then he remembered. "Rufus, and Lucy,…and Rufus."

"Rufus is it?" She leaned forward, conspiratorially, "Well, tell Rufus he's not fooling anyone."

"What?"

Her lips quirked sideways as she straightened again. "I saw you earlier, silly….I _know_ she's with you."

He shook his head rapidly, "No, 'course not—just friends," he began, but then saw the mischief in her eyes turn to concern.

She sighed. "Wyatt….it's okay. It's been almost three years. You know I've had other relationships—hell, although it was a mistake, you knew I dated your old roommate, briefly. And Steve an' me have been living together for almost a year now, back in San Diego. So, it's _okay_ for us to talk about it. I'm glad you have someone. You look….happy, and that's all I ever wanted for you. I…well….it always broke my heart, when you couldn't be happy….before." She glanced again a Lucy on the dance floor, and back at Wyatt.

"You look pretty good together, too." She winked. "And I'm extra happy, if it means she's gotten you to come back to this country. I hated thinkin' about you, volunteering to extend your deployments oversees year after year. I want you safe—and I want you happy."

"You said that."

She smiled that special smile, the one he still saw in his dreams. "Yeah? Well it's because I mean it."

There was movement at the door; a group of women were waving at Jessica, trying to get her attention.

"Well, I guess I should get back to them—girls weekend—we're on our way, actually, going to….well," she smiled softly, "Never mind, it's not important. Take care of yourself, Wyatt."

Faster than he could process, her arms were around his shoulders in a quick hug, and then the contact was gone, and she was moving toward the door.

 _No_ , his inner voice screamed. _Get her back._ Through sheer force of will, he finally cleared some of the brain fog that had been hampering him their entire conversation.

"Wait," he said, his voice finally sounding more like himself.

She turned back, toward him, "Yeah?" she questioned

He smiled softly. "How…." He trailed off. "Jess, how's…. _life_?"

There was that smile again. He had to press his foot hard against the lower rung of the stool beside him, in an attempt to ground himself.

"Oh, you know, pretty good. Business, it's doing well….I mean, it's not like I'm saving the world or anything, like you….but I'm where I want to be, you know?"

One of the impatient women called from the door, "Jessica, you coming?"

"Oh gosh, I gotta go…." she approached again, as though to hug him, then hesitated, instead placing her hand on his left wrist. "Happy birthday, Wyatt. Stay in touch, okay? Stay safe." Her gaze flashed back to Lucy on the dance floor. "Have fun tonight!" She chuckled lightly….and then she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

_So, turns out I stretched it to 5 chapters! A huge thank you to everyone who has been reading-you have all been so kind and supportive!_

 _This chapter contains a fairly strong physical reaction to emotional stimuli...I'm just not sure our brains are equipped to effectively process this sort of thing! If you'd rather skip that part, it starts pretty much the first sentence of the chapter, and goes to the paragraph beginning "He squeezed her hand..."_

* * *

 _ **"Oh gosh, I gotta go…." she approached again, as though to hug him, then hesitated, instead placing her hand on his left wrist.**_ _ **"Happy birthday, Wyatt. Stay in touch, okay? Stay safe." Her gaze flashed back to Lucy on the dance floor. "Have fun tonight!" She chuckled lightly….and then she was gone.**_

* * *

Wyatt's world became a kaleidoscope of spinning colours and sounds. He raised his hands to the sides of his face, and, suddenly losing his purchase, he stumbled backward—only to be caught be two strong arms, helping him to right himself.

"Easy buddy," Rufus had materialized, seemingly from nowhere.

"Rufus? That was Jessica, Jess, she's alive."

"We know, we saw."

Then he felt the warmth of a smaller hand against his arm, and he turned toward her, with pleading eyes. _She would know the answer, she always knew the answers._

"Lucy? How? How did it….what changed?"

Lucy's reply sounded so quiet, and so far very away, "I don't know….Wyatt?" her tone had changed to alarm.

Things were spinning again; he was hot—sweating, feeling like he was sinking. "Gotta….go," he choked.

"Yeah, I think so," said Rufus, his hands supporting against both of Wyatt's shoulders, and helping him move through the crowd.

Wyatt vaguely recognized that they were heading toward that door that Jessica had exited mere moments earlier-yet, _she_ couldn't _have, could she have?_ _What was happening?_

As the cold outside air hit his face and neck, he experienced a brief moment of clarity, followed immediately by a wave of nausea. Slamming his hand against the hard brick of the outside wall, he swung his body sideways, away from Rufus, and toward a darkened corner of the parking lot. His brain started swimming again, as he bent at the waist, retching out whatever he had eaten. _Had he eaten?_ He couldn't seem to remember. Couldn't seem to focus on any thought long enough to make sense of it….

Rufus' two hands were on his shoulders again, "Dude, hang in there, let's get you out of here."

Rufus was still speaking, but Wyatt stared at his hands, trying to collect himself. They were shaking, hard. He tried to control them, but it only seemed to make it worse. Then, the realization washed over him. _Something was very wrong with the sound._ He could see Rufus talking to him, inches from his face, and yet his friend's comforting words seemed to be coming from a long distance away. He jumped, as breaks squealed on a nearby road, but they sounded as though the car was on top of him, even though he knew that was impossible. He scrubbed at his face. _Breath, damn it, breath._

He struggled to stand upright, the movement allowing him to see Rufus to his side, and another figure-Lucy? a short distance away. The movement was a big mistake. For an instant, Rufus' face swam before his eyes. Then, suddenly, the image blurred, and went grey. Dashes of light and dark streamed vertically through his field of view, until he seemed to be seeing Rufus as though through a fuzzy TV interference signal. Rufus' face became just an outline—and then there was no outline at all—as his vision went black.

 _Blacked out?_ _No._ _Still aware, still hearing…._

"Hey!" A voice. Unfamiliar, but seeming very close, "Your friend okay?"

"Uhhhh, yeah."

That was Rufus responding, he knew it—but he was sounding so far away.

"We're good….just a little too much….to drink. No problem everything's fine, we're all good here…"

"Whatever," he heard the other voice say-seeming to slide away, until it was suddenly replaced by nearly deafening foot falls.

Wyatt tried to gather himself, tried to make sense of things. There was something hard and cold under his legs…. _was he sitting on the ground?_

Then Rufus's voice came again, no nonsense, take charge, yet seeming to waver between right beside his ear, and far across an unknown expanse. 'K, Wyatt? I'm gonna go get the car, Lucy's here, stay with her."

He wondered- _where would I go?_ _No._ _Focus._ _Think._ _Jessica?_

Slowly, the darkness swimming before his eyes started to lighten, until it was television interference again. Until he could make out a familiar outline in the fuzz, an outline that was reaching toward him, and holding his left arm….

"Lucy?" his voice focused on the feel of her hand on his arm, staring at the grey blob he assumed was her face, until gradually, within the interference signal, he started to see features. First her hair, then, her eyes. He pushed his shoulders against the hard wall behind him, still focusing on the feel of her hand, until suddenly the interference signal cleared, and he could fully see her face—Lucy. Lucy's face.

"Hi," she said softly, as his eyes found hers.

Her eyes were wet, he noticed immediately. _Why were they wet?_ He still couldn't focus his thoughts. Sounds were still swirling.

Lucy slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting beside him, and her hand moved down his arm, until she was holding his. They sat, quietly.

Gradually, as he focused on the feel of her sitting against him, of her hand in his, the sound returned to normal. What was close was close again, and the far-away cars on the freeway sounded distant.

He squeezed her hand. "Lucy," he coughed, "Jess, Jess is okay. Did you see?"

"I saw," she whispered, her other hand, shaky, reaching toward him, and smoothing his hair back off his forehead.

Wyatt felt the wet on his face, on his shirt. _Now he was crying-when did that start?_

"Jessica is alive….she's okay," he said again, as if repeating it would somehow make it more real.

"She is…." Lucy's voice again, fingers still tracing through his hair, "I don't know how, I don't know….what happened"

He let out a strangled sound. _What was that?_ _A scream?_ _A laugh?_

"She's, she's not …. not my wife anymore?" The last word rose in pitch as a question, to Lucy, to God—he wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry," she said simply.

He looked at her face. _Was she crying too?_ _Or were those his tears?_

Overwhelmed he dropped his head against her shoulder. _Surely it was okay_ , _she wouldn't mind?_

Her arms snaked around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her, holding his head against her neck, just quiet, waiting. He could feel her hand beginning to stroke circles against his back.

Her touch seemed to help his senses to return to kilter. Things—everything, started snapping back into place.

He smiled against her neck. "I told you, told you—whatever happened, it would be worth it, to have her back."

She applied more pressure to his back, pressing him tighter against her "Wyatt, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"S'okay Lucy, s'okay Luce," he huffed into her neck. "I'm alright."

He felt new warmth against him, as she pressed a kiss against his temple. "No, you're not. But I know you will be."

* * *

 _A few more notes: So, some might say having them divorced is a bit of a cop out-and you'd be right! I've read a couple of great fics where Jess returns and they are still married...let me just say those writers are far braver than I am. It would have been quite the different fic, if she'd seen him at the bar with Lucy, assumed they were together, and they were still married. Although I briefly considered it, I decided I didn't want to write it. Just knowing I'd have to write "sad Wyatt" was enough of an issue for me, in this one!_

 _Also-someone asked me about the Shakespeare...it became a late cut in the process, sorry! Originally, it was while they were at the bar, but it was really only there because I wanted Wyatt to quote Shakespeare, it didn't actually work that well. But, I still love the idea-so if anyone knows of a good Wyatt-quoting-Shakespeare fic, let me know! I'd edit the credit out of my original notes, but then these notes wouldn't make any sense, I guess!_

 _Thanks again to everyone who took the time to read!_


End file.
